


Something Weird

by Jerakeen



Series: Tumblr Fic Bits [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Break Up (sort of), Cheesy Romantic Sex (attempted), Cuddly Derek, Emotional Stiles, Fake/Pretend Relationship (aftermath), Fuckbuddies, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Podfic Available, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerakeen/pseuds/Jerakeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So I pretend-held your hand," Stiles says with half a shrug. "How was that weirder than me doing things to your dick?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Weird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MontanaHarper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/gifts).



> Originally posted [here](http://jerakeenc.tumblr.com/post/86132033635/trope-fake-dating-or-accidental-marriage).

"It got weird," Derek says. He’s lying next to Stiles on his back. His pants are still undone.

"But _why_ ,” Stiles whines. “It was good! It was—it was awesome.” In all honesty, awesome didn’t even begin to cover it. Having Derek as his fuck buddy was pretty much the best thing to ever happen to Stiles. “We have got to unweird it,” he insists.

"I told you to pretend-date Cora, but you didn’t listen."

Stiles gives him a look. “Yeah. Because _pretend-dating your sister_ wouldn’t have made things weird.”

"Better than this," Derek mutters.

"So I pretend-held your hand," Stiles says with half a shrug. "How was that weirder than me doing things to your dick?"

Derek is quiet for a moment, just staring at him, and then he clears his throat. “You also pretend-kissed me in front of everyone and talked about us buying a house together one day.”

Yeah, Stiles did get a little carried away. But it was all _pretend_! “Look, I’m not… It’s not like I expect you to do any of that.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, his tone oddly flat. “Maybe you should find someone you’ll want that with.”

Stiles blinks a little stupidly. “Am I getting dumped here?”

“That’s not what—”

“We’re not even together,” Stiles stresses, his brain having trouble computing, “and yet you’re dumping me.”

Derek sits up with a huff, fastening his pants. Stiles follows his lead, because let’s face it, there’s no way this conversation is leading to sexytimes.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Derek says quietly after a while.

Stiles nods jerkily, angry at Derek and himself and the world at large. Fuck buddies are supposed to be fun. This is very much not fun. “Yeah, whatever, Derek,” he mumbles, grabbing his phone from the bedside table and looking around for his jacket. “What the fuck ever.”

“Yeah, make it all my fault,” Derek snipes after him bitterly. As if he has any right—

“Oh, no, it’s my fault,” Stiles tells him, nodding. “I _dared_ to hold your hand. In front of _people_. Forgive me, o untouchable one.” With a mock bow he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

-

Stiles plans to spend the day fuming, but as it happens, Scott needs his help picking out a new couch. He’s all atwitter about it too. Apparently it needs to be perfect, because he’s going to be asking Kira to move in with him and she hates his old couch.

“God,” Stiles moans, throwing himself on a green velvet loveseat in despair. “What am I even doing with my life.”

Scott is moving in with Kira. His dad is dangerously close to popping the question to Melissa. Lydia is engaged to a guy who’s rich enough to buy her her own country. Even Deputy Parrish got a dog. And here Stiles is, fucking around with a guy who doesn’t even want to hold his hand.

“I should get a dog,” he says, only to realize Scott has moved on to a grey monstrosity a few feet away.

Stiles sighs and thumps his head back.

He _should_ get a dog.

Or a boyfriend.

Or, he could stop pretending that what he has with Derek is the best thing ever and see where he goes from there.

“I found it!” Scott yells, jumping up and down around a flower-patterned puke-colored couch.

Stiles heaves himself up. Duty calls.

-

Derek is perched on his bedroom window when Stiles finally gets home. He sighs and throws his jacket towards the closet.

“You were right. I’m not mad. You can go.”

But of course Derek doesn’t go. He’s wearing a leather jacket and his signature grumpy frown from the good old days; it’s so much like high school that for a moment Stiles gets a little thrill out of _Derek Hale_ being in his bedroom. As if they haven’t already fucked on and against every furniture in the room.

“It wasn’t weird,” Derek tells him.

Stiles shakes his head. Do they really have to discuss this further? “Yes, it was. We’ve been over this. It made things weird, and now it’s weird.”

“What was weird was that it wasn’t weird,” Derek _clarifies_ – and yes, Stiles is using that word as sarcastically as possible here.

“I have no idea what you just said.”

Derek stands up, runs a palm over his forehead. “I like holding your hand,” he says, and then shrugs, as if to say _can’t help it._

Breathing, and thus talking, suddenly becomes a problem. Stiles’ mouth opens and closes without a sound.

Derek shrugs again self-consciously. “I like it when people know we’re together. I like the idea of living with you. I want you to stay over after sex. I want you to stay over when we don’t have sex. I want more than just sex… with you.”

Derek has been moving closer with every word, and Stiles must have taken a step or two as well, because now they’re close enough to touch, and Stiles’ hand is taking advantage of the situation, fisting Derek’s t-shirt and tugging him closer.

“Wha—” His voice comes out a squeak, so Stiles swallows hard and tries again. “What are you doing?”

“After accidentally breaking up with you, I figured there’s no way I can make things worse now.”

Stiles feels like flailing until he can flail no more. He can’t deal with how much he adores every tiny stupid thing about this guy. Especially when he’s saying things like this. It makes Stiles’ heart literally swell, like something from a damn love song.

“This is where you say yes or send me away,” Derek says, but he doesn’t sound too worried, possibly clued in by the way Stiles is clutching at his clothes.

Stiles presses his smile against Derek’s cheek, and feels Derek’s fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

“Yeah?” Derek asks into his neck.

Stiles nods.

-

“You really want to live with me?” Stiles asks, having trouble believing this is real, even with Derek’s weight on top of him, pinning him to the bed.

“Yeah,” Derek breathes into his mouth, following the word with a biting kiss.

Stiles pets Derek’s hair a little compulsively. He’d never let himself be affectionate before; now it’s hitting him all at once. “Have you suffered any recent head trauma?” he asks. A part of him is honestly worried.

“This is not recent,” Derek tells him.

Stiles tugs him back by the hair to see his face. “How not recent?”

Derek makes a face. “Never-telling-your-dad-about-it not recent.”

“Oh.” Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that, except, “Me too.”

Derek grins, sudden and bright, like the rising sun clearing the tree tops, and—Stiles really needs to stop with the cheesy romantic commentary, but god, he’s never had a cheesy romance before. He’s been waiting for this his whole life.

“Get in my pants, right now,” he orders Derek, pressing a kiss against his grin. “We’re going to have cheesy, romantic sex.”

Derek pulls Stiles’ t-shirt off and starts kissing down his chest. “Music, rose petals, candles?”

“No time,” Stiles says, undoing and kicking off his pants. “Just look into my eyes longingly or something.” It’ll have to do for now. Stiles will have more time to plan properly cheesy, romantic sex later.

“No problem,” Derek says, climbing up to meet Stiles’ eyes, and wow, Stiles didn’t know that was a literal thing that happened—looking into someone’s eyes with love and longing and yearning. He thought it was just a thing people said. Wow.

He grabs Derek’s dick. “Get inside me before I start crying,” he says, voice thick with emotion.

“I thought you wanted romance?” Derek teases, the jerk.

“I’m chickening out, you got a problem with that?” Stiles dares him. He feels Derek chuckle, and his face heats up. “Don’t even—Derek, I swear to god—if you tell me you love me or start whispering sweet nothings in my ear or whatever the hell romantic people do while having sex, I’m going to start bawling my eyes out, I’m not even kidding. It’s been a long, emotionally exhausting day.”

Derek kisses the side of his face and says, “It’s okay. I got you.” And then his fingers are pressing inside Stiles, slick and familiar and knowing their way around _so well…_ and they’re done talking for a long time.

-

Derek, the goddamn traitor, whispers it just as Stiles is about to fall asleep.

“Noooo,” Stiles whines, punching Derek’s arm weakly. “You weren’t supposed to.”

Derek, who’s apparently a closet cuddler, pulls him tighter against his chest. “You’re too sleepy to cry now.”

“Dammit,” Stiles says, sniffling quietly. “I love you too. Are you happy now?”

“Never happier,” Derek admits.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Something Weird](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1656884) by [mothlights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothlights/pseuds/mothlights)




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